Irony
by moodiful819
Summary: With a muttered greeting, too deep in his thoughts to throw a spiteful insult, he had to think back on the then and now and give a broken smile at the irony. My first Harry Potter anything. Please regard me kindly. [SnapexLily. Canon at last. Hah!]


Well, I was never really into the Harry Potter fandom, then I saw the fifth movie with my friends and saw Snape's past and I became intrigued. I'm planning on trying to read the rest of the books, whenever I get time. Anyway, I love Snape and I'm now a fan of ServerusXLily. Here's my first Harry Potter fiction ever. Tell me what you think.

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A sigh was let loose into the air as a hand raked through long black locks. Just how long had it been since she died? He chuckled, he knew exactly how long she had been dead—down to the second, but he wouldn't admit it to himself just yet. It would put the final nail into her blasted coffin and ruin what little naivety he had left. He knew she was dead, but he wouldn't admit it to himself. Denial was a blessing in disguise.

What they had was a horrid affair. Really, who ever heard of such lunacy as a Slytherin falling in love with a Gryffindor or a Death Eater in love with a mudblood? But the irony of it all was that it had really happened. Despite his horrible appearance and even worse persona, despite her mixed blood and bloody smiles, they fell in love. The Slytherin with the Gryffindor, the Death Eater with the mudblood.

Mudblood. What an awful thing to be called, but nonetheless, that was what he called her in their fifth year. What was more awful was that he called her that after she defended him and that afterwards, she forgave him.

Evans was always kind. She was too kind for her own good, for his own good. He lashed out at her repeatedly for such foolish behavior. It was self-preservation because he might have fallen for her with her goddamn smiles and her stupid red hair, but in the end, it was useless. He had fallen for her.

The weeks after she had forgiven him were awkward, though mostly on his part. He never had any social graces, his constant lurking and sitting in the corner had sabotaged any chance he had. This was made even worse after he realized his feelings for her. He was even getting sappy by using the word "feelings". What did emotions have to do with anything? But those bloody emotions made his palms sweet and foiled any attempts of conversation. All he could do was shield his face with his hair and give her nods and the occasional strangled 'yes.' But she seemed okay with that and for that, he was glad.

After a while, he could return her witty whispers with some of his own. Potions class became more enjoyable than he ever remembered, but as soon as the class was over, Potter and Black seemed to make it their mission to torture him even more. It was after one of these beatings that they shared their first kiss. She had been blathering on and on and worrying about his health and he found her constant talking annoying and did the only thing he could think of at the time: kiss her.

It shut her up, but it had affected him also. He felt a warmth flood his paralyzed system. The electrical messages his nerves were trying to send, weren't registering. It was only when his brain realized that she was returning this action that his brain began working once more. The kiss was awkward and a bit sloppy, but they both liked it and when he pulled away, an idiotic grin on his face, she giggled and called him cute.

They had a relationship in Hogwarts. It was a quiet relationship, but the two didn't mind. But when he thought about what they were, he didn't know how to define it. They weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, but they did care for each other more as more than friends and they loved each other. He didn't know what to call them. Labels were a hassle.

He didn't know why or how (maybe his mind had blocked out the memory), but Lily had ended up with Potter. Though it had hurt badly, worse than any curse possible, he had offered her a smile and some well-wishes. He hadn't shown at the wedding, but he doubted she noticed.

And here he was, in the same school they loved in, where her son was being taught by him. And here he was, under the tree where his blasted father had tormented him and he had called her a mudblood in spite, but it was also the place he cherished most.

He reached into his robe and took out an old photo. He opened it, the four creases marring the memory, but did nothing to stop the reminiscent smile that graced his lips. In it were the two of them. He couldn't exactly remember how old they were when this was taken, but it didn't matter to him. She was smiling and he was wearing a brooding scowl for the camera, but he knew he was smiling under that scowl and at the bottom of the photo, their hands were clasped together.

Even though he had been the cause of her death and he was supposed to hate all mixed-blooded witches and wizards (even though he was one himself), he still hoped she never stopped loving him. He knew he never stopped loving her and it ate at him from the inside knowing that he was the cause for her death. He now lived a life seeking redemption, to atone for his sins and protect her last legacy.

And as he walked through the halls of the school, he came upon it. Her last legacy. Though he had her eyes and her smile, he had the same contempt for him as his father did. With a muttered greeting, too deep in his thoughts to throw a spiteful insult, he had to think back on the then and now and give a broken smile at the irony.


End file.
